EP

On a rough-sketch hill painted in sunset colors that do not suit its crude lines, an achromatic girl in a school uniform gazes up at the sky. A running turtle and a swimming whale. A picture where the night sky and the sun coexist.

The album art for Group Sound’s first EP, [Plastic Nostalgia], seemed to capture the emotions of children who had only just emerged from adolescence—unsteadily wavering, yet trying to stay optimistic about the future (at least, that was what the illustrator claimed)…

Most of the songs blended pop and J-rock. Yet their sound could not be called an attempt to follow the current trend in Japanese music. Each track had its own specific genre, but the album’s overall color was similar.

There were five tracks in total.

The prerelease track, [Ashen Days].

Then there was [Sternstunde], a song that had earned praise from active musicians.

[I Wish Someone Would Buy Me Meat], a calm song about the joys of ordinary life.

[Pointed Fingers], which spoke of emotions that constantly changed and writhed unpredictably.

And the title track, [Leap Across That Distance], had an atmosphere quite different from that of the prerelease track.

If [Ashen Days] spoke of something close to an ineffable longing for the past, [Leap Across That Distance] was a lively, cute, ticklish song that whispered of love.

This was a bold attempt to strike the tastes of critics, indie fans, and hipsters with [Ashen Days] and the other tracks… while also courting the general public by making [Leap Across That Distance] the title track.

And that bold attempt returned fairly successful results.

At first, their song had sat quietly without even entering the rankings, like a track by an ordinary indie band that had disappeared without anyone listening.

The fans tried to promote it, saying, “We love our kids’ song so much!!” But everyone who heard it merely said, “Wow, it’s nice~,” with no sign whatsoever that its fame was spreading.

But little by little, ever so little by little… people started pressing Like. Someone would post a tweet, message, or story saying, [This song is good~ It’s a band I’ve never heard before, but they seem to be rookies?], and the people who saw it would spread it further.

It got added to the playlists of YouTubers with little influence, then to the playlists of more influential YouTubers… and the cycle repeated.

[The state of indie rock bands these days.avi]

(Leap Across That Distance audio)

(Ashen Days audio)

Indie rock is the future

- [BEST] These days, whenever I look at Melon, it’s nothing but fucking idol songs, so it’s nice to hear music like this

- [BEST] (A link to a photo of Ha Suyeon flashing a V sign, taken by Park Dain and spread as though it were viral marketing) Her looks are insane;

- [BEST] An indie band that debuted with a new EP this time. They’re famous in Hongdae and perform every month if you go to Paradox

- Added it to my playlist

- No, but this song is seriously good. Where are these guys?

ㄴ I think they’re indie, but they don’t have an agency

- Damn, there need to be more music like this, fuck

… and posts like these began to heat up little corners of internet communities.

* * *

“Eat.”

At her mother’s words, Hyuna stopped playing the piano. She unplugged the speaker from the AUX jack, put on the headphones she had prepared for evening practice, and stood up.

The meal proceeded in silence. Hyuna chewed and swallowed her food without saying a word. Since the EP had been released, the band had cut back on practice, so she needed to take this opportunity to get a head start on entrance-exam preparation.

“Hyuna.”

“Yes?”

As Hyuna ate with single-minded urgency, her mother began to speak.

“That… band thing of yours. Are you going to keep doing it? It’s time to start preparing seriously for your entrance exams.”

At those words, Hyuna thought, Here it comes. For several months since last year, she had continued her band activities under the excuse that they would help with her entrance exams. Recently, she could no longer use that excuse and had been glossing over the issue by saying, “I’ll quit when the time comes.”

Hyuna still had not decided on her career and was wavering (in truth, she strongly wanted to do both), but from her mother’s perspective, this had nothing to do with her entrance exams. She had prepared for those exams throughout elementary, middle, and high school, and there was no way she could give them up now over some childish game.

“I’ll quit when the time comes.”

“How many times have you said that? I think it’s really time for you to quit now.”

“I told you, I’m still fine.”

“Jeong Hyuna. Are you really going to be like this?”

Their voices rose little by little. But just before their faces could turn red, a deep voice quietly cut in.

“… I think it would be good for her to keep doing it.”

“Why?”

Hyuna’s mother questioned him as if his remark had come out of nowhere. Instead of answering, Hyuna’s father showed her his phone. It displayed the Melon daily chart. It was not the overall chart, but [Leap Across That Distance] had entered the Rock/Metal chart at No. 96.

“I asked some young people today, and they said it’s extremely difficult for a rookie band to get on the charts. But it made it on somehow, didn’t it? I think that means she has plenty of talent.”

“Even so, she’s been preparing for this for years…”

His voice and the substance of his words had softened slightly. But rather than hastily asking for permission, Hyuna waited for her father to continue.

“In the end, isn’t it important for Hyuna to go in the direction she wants? And I’ve said this before, but… honestly, it’s hard to make a living playing piano.”

“Then is it easy to make a living with this band thing?”

“That’ll be difficult too, but Hyuna has already proven herself. By getting on the charts. Isn’t that enough to put us at ease?”

Her parents continued their conversation. Watching them, Hyuna breathed an inward sigh of relief. She did not know how the conversation would unfold from here, but it seemed as if things would go in a good direction.

* * *

Melon daily chart, Rock/Metal category: No. 82.

It was hard to say how things would perform after today, but so far, No. 82 appeared to be their highest ranking. They had not entered the overall chart, but for a band that had not even made its major-label debut (by Japanese standards) to enter a daily chart was an extraordinary success.

Myeongjeon set their guitar down on the subway floor and held their phone up before their eyes, adopting a posture designed to prevent tech neck.

‘Hyuna’s idea worked after all…’

Myeongjeon had originally wanted to promote [Sternstunde] as the title track. Since [Ashen Days] was also a somewhat accessible song (at least, that was what they thought), they believed the title track should be something that could appeal fully to the indie fanbase.

But Hyuna had disagreed. “If we want to aim for a hit, I think we need to make the title track something more accessible,” she had said.

Myeongjeon had not accepted the suggestion at first, reasoning that being accessible at the indie level would not accomplish much anyway. But after Hyuna’s persistent lobbying, they had said, “Fine, let’s try it.” And the results had been quite good…

‘I never even considered getting onto playlists or anything like that.’

Myeongjeon thought they had learned a fair amount about modern technology, but this experience had made them feel that they still had a long way to go.

No wonder. Unless they had experienced it firsthand, how could an old-timer understand the explanation that the song had become popular not because it was a [song enjoyable to listen to on its own], but because it was a [pleasant, inoffensive song good enough to blend into a playlist]?

Still unable to understand it no matter how many times they encountered it, Myeongjeon checked their destination station. It was time to get off.

“Good to see you again.”

“Oh~ Nice to see you, hitmaker.”

Myeongjeon had arrived at the studio twenty minutes early. Inside, Junhong was using his phone with a guitar beside him. Myeongjeon gave Junhong a slight bow. At first, bowing to a junior much younger than them had been difficult to get used to, but by now they could accept it as perfectly ordinary.

‘Besides, this guy, too.’

If one counted their career from the days of Seo Myeongjeon, there was no comparison. But as Ha Suyeon, they were a kid who had been playing guitar for only a year and had been doing session work for less than one.

Not only were they serving as a session musician for the same artist, they had pushed him toward rhythm guitar and taken the lead-guitar position. The fact that he did not show much displeasure was astonishing in itself. If it had been Myeongjeon, they would have been furious.

“Your numbers are good.”

“Thank you. I thought maybe we could get onto the overall chart, but that was too much.”

“There was no way you’d get onto the overall chart. Just entering the daily chart is amazing. What rock songs are on the overall chart right now? Three or four? If you count only pure band tracks, there might be even fewer.”

Junhong said this as he took out his phone. It was quite an old phone. He seemed to search for something, but apparently came up empty, then put it away again as he spoke.

“Korea doesn’t really operate album charts the way the United States or Japan does. It’ll be difficult to gauge the EP’s performance. And as for digital revenue, well, it probably won’t amount to much.”

“I know.”

“If you know, that’s a relief. But that’s how bands generally are… Echosound is a label with a name in the indie scene, but it’s nowhere near the level of the majors. You’ll probably have to struggle at the indie level for a year or two.”

Myeongjeon nodded instead of answering. They already knew this very well, so there was not much they could say. But to Junhong, they seemed like a kid who had just started to gain traction, only to be forcibly confronted with a bleak reality.

“Don’t be too pessimistic. There’ll be good news too.”

“Good news…?”

Junhong had said something completely impossible to guess. While Myeongjeon wondered what he could mean, people began entering the studio one by one.

“Oh, Student Suyeon! Long time no see. Is this the first time we’ve seen each other since then?”

And there he was: the person who had commissioned today’s recording, a judge for Band Pioneer, the leader of the famous rock band [Tailored], and now someone who had decided to release a solo album as well—Kim Cheolyeon.

“We’re done with the lead guitar for today! Take a short break, then we’ll record another instrument.”

The speakers inside the recording room carried Cheolyeon’s voice from outside. Myeongjeon gave a slight bow, picked up their guitar, and left the recording room.

“I really wonder how you play guitar so well. Do you have some kind of secret?”

“Practice. That’s all.”

Myeongjeon answered Cheolyeon’s question as if it were obvious. Unless one had some way of possessing another person’s body as they had, what method was there besides practice? Every guitarist called a genius had practiced until their hands bled. Myeongjeon had done the same.

“That part at the end—The Smiths?”

“I thought of them because I brought the Tele.”

Many people had used jangle sound, but if asked to name one famous example, five out of ten would probably say Johnny Marr of The Smiths. Marr had often used a Telecaster during the early days of The Smiths, and when Myeongjeon brought a Tele at Cheolyeon’s request today, they had thought of Marr.

“I didn’t intend anything like that. The sound turned out better than I expected. We recorded it incredibly quickly, too.”

Cheolyeon muttered that, paused for a moment, and then opened his mouth.

“You know, that thing last time. The Pioneer matter.”

Myeongjeon nodded instead of answering.

“After looking into the circumstances later, we realized… our side’s judgment had been hasty. It was something we could have investigated more thoroughly. The organization was the same way, and so were we. When an issue like that is involved, neither side can think straight.”

“I understand.”

Cheolyeon looked at Myeongjeon with a complicated expression, then spoke.

“So, about that. Our band is planning to host a festival under our own banner this time. Would you be interested in performing onstage?”